Takeo's Chronicles, page 137
The infamous ronin had made a mistake.
The Katsu ranks roared as they flooded down into the gorge from the other side, slamming into the Hanu ranks like a typhoon. The shudder went through everyone, and the sounds of battle doubled in their intensity. Takeo was pressed so tightly against those around him that it was all he could do to keep his sword free. Now more than ever was he glad he put his strongest troops in the rear.
“My lord,” Kuniko said, grunting as the press of bodies threatened to suffocate her. “What do we do?”
“Please tell me you’ve got a plan,” Qing added.
Deep, murderous laughter danced across the stone walls nearby, and Takeo saw Borota had reached the Katsu ranks and was swinging that kanabo to deadly effect. The tightly packed formations on both sides meant there was nowhere for the oni’s victims to run, and his swings launched multiple men into the air. Meanwhile, the little akki moved like knives in the water, darting between the legs of their victims and stabbing with impunity. The Katsu ranks that had first assaulted them began to weaken under the violent chaos that ensued.
“We fight our way out,” Takeo shouted, pushing through the crowd. “Follow the oni.”
Takeo had never felt so useless in a battle. He was used to fighting in the front lines where his martial prowess could help turn the tide of battle. Yet now he had to issue orders, and that meant being somewhere less active, so that he could observe all sides at once. He needed to win this fight, to escape, to flee even, to kill that traitorous Yoshida. How could he do any of that in this mass of allies, with no enemies nearby to strike down? His very life now boiled down to his troops’ ability to fight, and he never felt so helpless.
He pushed through the ranks, those ahead trying but failing to part when they saw him approach. There was nowhere to go. The oni and akki ahead weren’t pushing so hard anymore. The tide was turning back against them, and Takeo felt raw fear pulse through his body.
It won’t be enough. We’re going to die.
A horn sounded, muffled though it was over the heavy ringing of combat and shouting. It took a heartbeat for Takeo to recognize it as a Katsu one, and a moment longer for him to understand it was something akin to retreat or at least something defensive. Either way, it wasn’t the rousing call to charge that Takeo expected, and he stopped trying to shove through his men long enough to look around. He couldn’t see much, but his ears picked up on a sharp cry behind him. His head swiveled to find the flood of blue Katsu samurai that had encircled them where now fighting a double-edged battle of their own: Takeo’s men on one side, and a bulging line of Hanu komainu on the other.
Leading the charge was Yoshida, surrounded by elite warriors, plus Nicholas, swinging his maul like an oni through the Katsu ranks.
It took one second for the rest of Takeo’s troops to see this, too, and a massive cheer erupted.
Lord Botan’s army, divided three ways and turned inwards to annihilate Takeo, was ill-prepared to deal with a mass komainu attack. Yoshida’s assault was both brutal and swift, striking a deadly blow not just in numbers but in morale. The enemy ranks crumbled, and the Katsu horn was blown again, this time signaling a full retreat. Only one third of the Katsu numbers could escape untouched, another third was harassed and suffered heavy casualties, while the last third was captured in the gorge just like Takeo had been. The attackers became the defenders, and the Katsu ranks were annihilated nearly to the man.
Before the killing was finished, yet once the battle was certainly over, Lord Yoshida cut his way to Takeo. The ronin couldn’t help himself as he looked up at the old general, atop his blood-splattered komainu, and grinned.
Yoshida scowled.
“Do you mind telling me what in the world you were thinking?” the lord started, one vein pulsing against the skin of his neck.
Takeo’s grin fell.
“You never sounded the horn!” Yoshida shouted, ignoring all the looks he gathered. “I waited and waited for the signal, but it never came. Finally, I just charged in. How long were you going to wait?”
“What, me?” Takeo stammered. “You were the one who got noticed. You were supposed to stay hidden.”
“And what does that have to do with anything? It was a last-minute change to help you. Firstly, it looked like you were having trouble, so I exposed a few troops to make Botan hesitate. Secondly, I could see he was holding back reserves for just such a trap, so I let him think he found our plan. Then, thirdly, I altered my own position to attack from the other end, thus ensuring a retreat for you. I thought for sure you’d see the wisdom in the move. Yet none of what I’ve said explains why you didn’t signal me. We almost lost the battle!”
Takeo blinked and his mouth fell open. He hadn’t thought of any of that. Yoshida had increased their tactical advantage by baiting Botan with false information. The only problem was that Takeo fell for it, too.
“I,” Takeo started, pausing. “I thought you intended to retreat.”
Lord Yoshida gaped. A silence fell over them, minus the screams and clashing taking place in the distance.
“Retreat?” the lord repeated. “You mean, you thought I was going to leave you to die?”
Takeo went to reply but stopped. He’d been about to make some excuse, something along the lines that such a thing wasn’t so crazy in his world, but he couldn’t form it into words. His gaze fell.
“I made a mistake,” Takeo said.
Yoshida swore and straightened in his saddle.
“I knew you were a cynic, but I didn’t think the problem stretched this far. Why wouldn’t you at least give the horn a try? Signal me anyway? You were so convinced, that easily, that I’d betrayed you, that you almost died.”
Yoshida paused and sighed.
“Takeo, if you continue to act this way, you’re going to doom this campaign. No general, no matter how clever, survives a battle where he doesn’t trust those under his command.”
“I,” Takeo stuttered, “I’m sorry, my lord.”
The words slipped out before Takeo realized the damage they would do. He was supposed to be the general here, not Yoshida. Why was he apologizing? He looked weak.
“Don’t apologize,” Yoshida replied. “Do better. And you can start by pursuing Botan all the way back to his fortress. The real fight hasn't even started.”
Chapter 7
The more Takeo thought about it, the worst he felt. Lord Yoshida’s question kept repeating over and over in his mind, asking how Takeo could have been so certain of betrayal—off so little a change in the battlefield—that he’d almost marched their army into the jaws of death without flinching. Even the slightest glimpse of hope in his mind would have prompted him to sound the horn, but it never occurred to him. Takeo had been that certain, and this bothered him to no small extent.
It wasn’t his skepticism that was the problem, though. The fact that Takeo had been willing to accuse Yoshida of betrayal wasn’t considered a weakness in Takeo’s mind. The ronin relied too heavily on that instinct to start trusting people wholeheartedly. What bothered him was a certain blindness, so to speak, the fact that Takeo had been unable to see any possibility beyond betrayal. He limited his options and almost paid the ultimate price for it.
Thinking on this brought back a memory of his time with Emily. Right after the colossus joined her, she’d used the creation to broker a deal with a viking jarl. She requested safe passage at sea in exchange for a favor to the jarl; to which, the man had howled with laughter. The viking couldn’t understand why Emily was trying to broker a deal at all when she could, quite literally, strong arm the entire village into doing her bidding. Emily had been shocked not at the brutality of the statement, but that the thought had never occurred to her.
It seemed Takeo had the same problem, but from the opposite perspective.
He hadn’t been granted a colossus to control, but he now had an army. That was a rare privilege few could claim, and like Emily, Takeo’s first use of it had been a half-minded attempt hampered by his old habits. He couldn’t afford to be blind to any option in the coming battles, not against Botan, and certainly not against Qadir. To do anything else was not only foolish, but deadly.
Takeo thought all these things in only scattered fragments in the aftermath of the battle. As the acting general, he had a fair bit of logistics to undertake. Before Botan could be properly pursued, there were the dead to strip, a camp to strike, messages to be dispatched, scouts to be sent out, and so much more, not to mention the injured to consider. Not that any of this slowed Takeo down. He had served indecisive commanders before and knew that the only thing worse than a bad decision was no decision at all. He handled every inquiry to the best of his knowledge as he made his way back to the camp.
Combining this with Nicholas’ ceaseless chatter, it was a wonder Takeo had the time to reflect on anything at all.
“Battles here are so strange,” Nicholas wondered aloud between messengers running to and from Takeo. “We won, didn't we? Why are we running down Botan right now? I mean, how is each side quitting the battlefield just to return and pack up their camps? I mean, can I just ask what in Valhalla is going on here? Our camp be damned, why aren’t we chasing that shogun down right now?”
“Many reasons,” Qing butted in. “You must remember that battles in Juatwa aren’t like those in The North. This many soldiers requires a small city of supplies, which means assaulting a camp is like assaulting a small city. If we were to attack Botan now, we’d do so on his terms, against his fortifications, and against the rest of his reserves, which might turn our victory into defeat. Also, since we didn’t capture Botan at the battle, we’re unlikely to catch him at camp. He can break off from his baggage train and disappear from our grasp, making us risk much to gain nothing. The tactic to winning a war is patience. Don’t bite off more than you can chew. We’ll pursue Botan when we’re good and ready, specifically when we're well supplied for a long trek into enemy territory.”
Nicholas frowned.
“Oh,” he said, then looked to Takeo. “Why don’t you explain things like her, huh?”
“Because I don’t have the patience.”
“It’s because you find me too handsome and get distracted, isn’t it?” Nicholas replied.
“No. I literally just told you the reason.”
“Don’t worry, my friend. I know I’m beautiful. I have this sort of effect on everyone.”
Takeo sighed.
The camp was a flurry of activity upon their return. The orders Takeo dispatched were carried out, and the entire place was brought down in a hurry. In truth, the camp was already half-struck, as it was known prior to the battle that the army would be moving one way or another fairly soon. Botan’s place would be the same, and both armies would be mobile in no time.
Takeo knew he wouldn't catch Lord Botan before the man made it back to his fortress. This was Katsu territory, so they could afford to pack light and move fast. If Takeo had his sword—his enchanted sword—he might entertain the idea of assassinating Botan in the night as the man’s army traveled, but as the opposite was true, that was out of the question.
Unfortunately, a siege was inevitable.
As he neared his tent, his thoughts were interrupted by three loud giggles, one of which he recognized as belonging to Mako. He focused his attention, and a conversation drifted to him on the wind.
“This is too much, too much!” a voice said.
It took Takeo a moment to realize it was Lord Nobu.
“No, it’s true!” replied another, older, female, and Takeo’s heart raced as he realized it could only belong to one person. “He was an adorable baby, so eager to walk. He used to push himself up and start sprinting, trying to get his feet out in front of him, but then smack! He’d fall face first on the ground.”
“I just can’t imagine it,” Nobu said, laughing. “Tiny baby Takeo, crawling in the dirt and drooling all over the place.”
“It’s easy to forget, but everyone was a baby once,” Mako jumped in.
“That’s true,” Dhyana continued. “He’s all grown up now, but I still remember having to clean his little baby booty, and not to mention trying to breastfeed while he was teething. Ooohh, that was not fun.”
Nobu huffed, and replied, “I don’t think my mother ever cleaned me, or breastfed me, or much of anything really. We had servants for that.”
Takeo stormed into view. His eyes revealed what his ears had told him, that Lord Nobu was having a tea party with Takeo’s mother and sister-in-law, surrounded inevitably by Ping, a few others of Takeo’s personal guard, Nobu’s personal guard, and the oni, Tokhta. All were well within earshot to hear the entire ordeal, plus whatever had certainly occurred prior to Takeo’s interruption.
His presence summoned the attention of every soul in view, and the silence was deafening. Mako went red, Nobu went pale, Tokhta grinned, and Dhyana smiled.
“Ah, there he is,” she said with those thin lips. “My son returns victorious, as usual, or so I hear. You must be proud, my lord.”
This last part she addressed to Nobu, adding a bow of respect. The prince forced a grin and a nod, then rose swiftly.
“We’ll have to speak again sometime,” the prince said. “I wish everyone could be so lucky as Takeo here, to have a mother so loving. You make me a jealous man.”
“Your lordship is too kind,” Dhyana replied, nodding again.
Lord Nobu beat a hasty retreat, taking with him his oni and human guard, sparing Takeo but a fleeting glance as he left. There wasn’t much embarrassment in the look, not as Takeo expected, more of a vapid expression. Takeo got the feeling Nobu wasn’t fleeing the ronin’s wrath so much as he was fleeing an argument. Either way, Takeo paid little mind. He was focused on the short old woman with eyes as dark and unflinching as his own.
Mako was the first to rise and come to him.
“Don’t be mad,” she whispered, which was useless with the silence all around them. “She was only answering our lord’s questions.”
“My lord, the prince demanded an audience,” Ping said, rising and bowing.
“I want everyone to leave,” Takeo commanded, eyes on Dhyana. “Everyone but you.”
The order was swiftly obeyed, and when they were alone, Takeo went to his tent, pulled back a flap, and gestured inside. Dhyana went in and Takeo followed. The interior was darkened yet hot from the afternoon sun. Neither complained as Takeo began to strip off his battle gear. Outside, he heard Kuniko approach and intercept a stream of messengers looking for the general.
He thought of a million things to say yet couldn’t choose one well enough to make words. Takeo took off his laminar armor in pieces, dropping each to the ground to remind himself they needed to be cleaned before being stowed. Meanwhile, Dhyana clasped her hands and stood with back slightly hunched, like any good peasant was expected to do. Takeo couldn’t tell if she was thinking like him, her head swirling with a mountain of unsaid words. He assumed so.
“What am I going to do with you?” he said, more to himself than her.
She didn’t reply.
“I spoke with Botan before the battle,” he continued, finding a thought to latch onto. “He’s got some plan for you by which he means to hurt me.”
“Whatever it is, I know not what, my son,” she said.
“Don’t call me that.”
“Oh? Excuse me, but I think I will. You didn’t pop out of thin air, like everyone seems to think. I gave birth to you. That makes you my son and me your mother.”
“Mothers don’t abandon their children.”
Dhyana’s head fell and her shoulders slumped, which Takeo only noticed out of the corner of his vision. He couldn’t bring himself to look at her.
“So that’s what you’re angry about,” she whispered. “What am I saying? Of course, you are. Your brother never mentioned me, did he?”
Takeo paused before answering, “No.”
“Well, if he had, he would have told you the truth. I didn’t abandon you. I never, ever would have abandoned you.”
“Evidence speaks otherwise.”
Silence fell between them. Dhyana’s eyes continued to admire the ground while Takeo looked intently at his gear. He bent down and began to clean the pieces, which was something he shouldn’t have time for as the general of an army, yet he needed something to do with his hands. They itched for his sword, his only source of comfort in the past many years.
“You,” Dhyana started, paused, then pressed on after a large breath, “you were three, when I lost you. That’s not old enough for a child to have memories yet, but that’s when it happened. I’d only met your brother once before that, in your father’s presence, but that one time was enough to make an impression. I saw how there was no empathy in him, a cruel creature void of emotion. Your father knew it, too, but he was a blithe sort of man. Not that it bothered me, I wasn’t exactly looking for a husband either, not in my profession.”
Takeo scoffed. “So, it’s true, then. I am the son of a whore.”
“Yes,” Dhyana replied flatly.
Her tone made them both raise their heads. The look they shared was one of cold, calculated understanding. Takeo was the first to look away.
“Though I was only called a whore as an insult,” she said. “We preferred the term hostess, but I knew that was only for the clientele, to make them feel more comfortable. I’d never deluded myself into thinking I was anything above a common prostitute, and as such, we had methods of ensuring we didn’t get pregnant. That’s never good for business, you see, but sometimes accidents can happen, and we had procedures for that, too, but, well, that’s not what happened with you. When you came out, you were my first, and my world changed.
“It probably sounds cliché to you because so many mothers say that, but it’s true. I didn’t realize how unhappy I was until I saw you, and I knew instantly that I wanted a better life for you. Boys in whorehouses don’t amount to much, you can imagine. They can only find work as hired thugs or conscripted soldiers, both considered fodder for royalty. I knew I couldn’t give you to your father either, as I feared you'd end up like your brother. There were few options, really, but that just made the choice clear.
